


Confined

by The_lazy_eye



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flu of 1918, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, If I'm Quarantined So Is Anne, Mild Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23301625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye
Summary: This is difficult for her. He’s known that since the beginning. The risks are high and she is shuttered away. He had hoped that she would be able to occupy herself with writing and painting, anything that could feed the fire of her creativity, but eventually she ran dry as worry and anticipation took over. The outbreak they thought they could contain raged on outside and anxiety began to creep into every moment.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 31
Kudos: 129





	Confined

“I’m going crazy, Gil! I wasn’t meant to be locked away, kept from the glorious beauty of nature! I’m the bride of adventure!”

Anne stands by the window, looking out over the empty street. There hasn’t been a soul outside in weeks, aside from those who absolutely must travel. 

Those traveling souls include, but are not limited to, doctors.

“I thought you were  _ my _ bride,” Gilbert smiles, crowding her space as she glares up at him over her shoulder. She does not move from her post. Gently, he takes the shawl that rests on her shoulders and wraps it tighter around her, enveloping her in his embrace as he does. 

“I am, don’t be silly. But long before I was your bride I married the trees. So, by proxy, you’re the  _ husband _ of adventure.”

“Come now, Anne, this isn’t all bad.”

Oh, but it is. It’s absolutely terrible. He just can’t see it because he’s not the one so helplessly stuck. One day, she’s free to roam the streets and meet with her dearest friends. The next, she’s being told she cannot  _ under any circumstances _ leave the house. Normally, she has no issues finding the bright side in life. There have been times where things were worse –  _ much _ worse – but right now she can’t help but be overcome with frustration. If she knew when this would be over, perhaps she could tolerate it. But the endless waiting? This unknown? It’s become too much. 

“No, not at first. It’s just - I feel as though I’m a prisoner in my own home. How long must we keep this up?”

“It’s for safety, my love. I couldn’t bear to think of something happening to you. If you were to catch this horrible disease,” He trails off, unable to finish. The thought of Anne falling ill at a time like this is too much. A quick shake of the head banishes those thoughts away.

“And what of you? Going out into the world every day.” She brings her hands up to rest on his arms, eyes pleading as she continues to watch the desolate world.

They’ve had this fight numerous times. He must go.

“It’s my civil duty.”

“You’re working tirelessly and putting yourself at risk.”

“There are precautions. I am well, I promise. If not a little tired,” He jokes, trying to ease the tension out of her words. 

It seems to work, because then she’s smiling up at him and saying, “Is it wrong that I’m jealous?”

“Of me?”

“Yes. Day in and day out, I’m trapped within these walls, but you get to escape! Even with the dangers, you get to experience life outside. Oh, I wish we were younger, that our children were still here. It’s too quiet and lonely.” She tries not to feel ungrateful as she says it, but it's difficult. She’s torn by being thankful for his service, proud of his importance, and being worried for him. 

She’s battling being grateful for her safety and ruing her imprisonment. 

This is difficult for her. He’s known that since the beginning. The risks are high and she is shuttered away. He had hoped that she would be able to occupy herself with writing and painting, anything that could feed the fire of her creativity, but eventually she ran dry as worry and anticipation took over. The outbreak they thought they could contain raged on outside and anxiety began to creep into every moment. 

“Let me ease your troubled mind, my Annest of Annes.” He places a gentle kiss to the exposed column of her neck, smiling into the warm skin she offers him. 

He’s not due to be out for another few hours, careful to balance his home and work life. In the beginning, he was gone near constantly but now he’s managed to find time for her; time for  _ them _ . It’s crucial, for without her he would feel lost in his own sea of troubles. There is only so much he can do on his own. 

“And what do you have in mind?” She asks. Her voice has that curious nature he loves so much, the one that teases and pokes until all of her questions become known. Until he has no choice but to expose himself fully to her. 

Nothing thrills him more. 

“Come now, my love,” He says, guiding her until she’s facing him. “Let me treat your ailments.”

“Why, Dr. Blythe,” She says, voice lower still, “Am I ill?”

“No.” Because he doesn’t want to think about that – doesn’t even want to pretend. “But you are suffering from cabin fever. I know just the thing to help.”

Before she can speak, he leans down and captures her lips. The kiss is soft, almost tentative. He explores her with his lips, gently caressing them and easing her into it. She responds in kind, content to let the lazy nature of their morning continue in this way. 

Her hands come up to rest on his chest and she can feel his hardening nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt. He makes a soft noise at the contact, bringing his own hands up to grip her hips and pull her closer. Languidly, he moves their mouths together, falling into the way they connect. They may move slow, but never are they devoid of passion. 

“Gil,” She whispers against his lips. He doesn’t respond immediately, instead taking the opportunity to seize her lower lip between his teeth. She groans at the sensation before pulling back again. “Honey, we may want to move.”

While the windows in their living room provide a wash of natural light, they are not the best place for heavy petting. During her youth, any such display would mark both of their reputations for ruin and while times have changed during the new century, she’s pretty sure it’s still considered improper to jump her husband’s bones where the world can see them. 

Even if the streets are empty. 

“Wouldn’t it be thrilling to take you right here?” He asks, continuing his assault on her lower lip. There’s mirth in his voice, but she can’t help the way she reacts to his suggestion. 

They’d never do it of course, but the mere idea of breaking social rules and losing herself to the feelings caged within her is enough to have her melt in his arms. 

“Come,” He says, “Let’s move.”

Then, he’s lifting her up and securing her legs around his waist. 

“Gil!” She laughs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and clinging to him, “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“I may be old, Mrs. Blythe, but I am not incapable of lifting my wife.”

She giggles helplessly as he moves them through the house. Not once does he detach his lips from her. He kisses at her neck, her collar, her cheeks, until he deposits her on the bed. She bounces once, red hair fanning out behind her as she gazes up at him.

He’s as handsome as the day they met. Silver hairs pepper his curls and his eyes are creased with laughter lines, but he’s beautiful all the same. She cannot help but fall for him over and over again. She’s helpless to him. 

Quickly, his shirt is over his head and thrown onto their floor and he’s on the bed, crawling over her and grinning.

“My Queen,” He hums, “How beautiful are you. How wondrous that you are mine.”

He kisses her again, deeper than he had before. His arms frame her head as he settles over her and she finds herself blanketed by his warmth. His weight upon her is pleasant and she feels safe in here, tucked away from the world outside. It’s the safest she’s felt in days. 

“I love you,” She says between kisses. Her hands instinctively go up to his curls, gripping them ever so slightly so she can angle his head where she wants him. He goes willingly, exposing his own neck to her onslaught of teeth and tongue. 

She nips her way down before coming back up, soothing her tongue over the abused spots. It draws another groan from deep within him and before she knows it, he’s hiking her legs up to wrap around his waist and settling into the space. 

It doesn’t take long for her to feel his length against her, an intimacy that was once forbidden and yet is still as alluring as ever. 

Her mouth returns to his as calloused hands make their way up her chemise. In the comfort and safety of her own home, Anne found herself more frequently dressing down. She saw no point in dawning layer after layer of clothing onto to stay inside and at the present moment, this seems to be working to her advantage. 

Long having since memorized her skin, Gilbert expertly finds each and every spot that makes his wife sing. First, his fingers ghost over the ridges of her ribs and he listens as she sucks in a sharp breath. Then, he traces them up over the apple of her breast, tracing feather light circles around her nipple until it hardens beneath his touch. This makes her face twist with apprehension. 

He keeps up with his torturous pace, tracing light patterns over the stiff peak until she begins to sigh and squirm under him. 

_ “Gilbert.” _

His mouth latches into her collarbone as he massages her bosom. He alternates between rolling her nipple between his fingers and gently squeezing her breast. Once he feels as though he’s given her sufficient attention, he shifts his bodyweight and repeats the process on her other side, careful to give equal amounts of attention to her waiting body. 

He moves so slow that it’s almost too much. Though their physical relationship isn’t as ardent as it once was, they still find time to come together. Sometimes they are hot and hurried, moving through the motions with desperate need to feel each other, to come apart with each other. Most of the time, they are gentle and loving in the bed of their home. Anne is long since used to this drawn out treatment; the way he draws out their love and makes her fall apart again and again underneath him. But no matter how many times he does this, she can’t help but become antsy under his treatment. Sometimes to the point of begging. 

With his mouth still on her skin and his hips now at a steady grind, she whimpers his name again. Her hands grip at the sheets, his shoulders, his hair, anything they can reach, but he does not budge.

The fire that starts in her belly and licks into every limb also grows inside him. He’s worked up, too, she can feel it against her body and hear it in the way he breathes. And when he finally lifts his head to look into her eyes, she can see the flames raging. His pupils are blown and his lips parted as he pants. When he rocks against her, sparks zing up her spine but it’s not enough to get her where she wants to me.

His hands run up her sides and finally lift her chemise off. “So beautiful,” He whispers, before sealing his mouth to the skin of her chest. Her back arches to meet him and she whimpers into the space above her as one hand sneaks between their bodies to get under her bloomers. He runs a finger through the wetness of her lips and she gasps, letting the pleasure finally wash over her. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” She echoes, rocking up to meet his fingers. His finger circles her bud before moving down and dipping ever so slightly inside. It’s a teasing motion meant to bring her to the edge of frustration and boy does it work. 

“Is it so bad, being stuck in here with me?” He asks, leaning down to capture her lips in a quick kiss. “Normally, you’d be out the door by now, gone to your wild adventures. Perhaps the store, perhaps the woods. Who knows.”

He kisses down her neck, down her chest, until he’s staring up at her from between her thighs, pulling the leg of her underwear wide enough to give him access. “But now you’re here.”

His tongue darts out and slides between her lips, drawing a high-pitched moan from her. 

“Now, you’re with me. I could not do this otherwise, not with the morning sun shining so brightly through our windows.”

His tongue comes out again, running over that sensitive bundle of nerves in a steady motion. 

“Now, you’re mine.”

He dips two fingers inside without warning, working them in a steady motion until she’s falling apart on his tongue. He laps everything up, greedily taking what she’ll give him and almost driving her over the edge again. It’s too easy when he knows every single trick to get her there. 

It isn’t until she’s pulling at his hair and dragging him up that he stops.

“Please, Gil,” She whines, hands desperately tugging on his pants. 

“Please, what?” He lets her struggle, smiling down at her as her fingers fumble with the button, then the zipper. “Use your words, my love.”

“I need you,” She pants, finally getting them open and shimmying them partway down his hips. 

“I’m right here, love,” He says, crowding into her space and making it difficult for her to continue her work on his trousers. 

She huffs in annoyance but it quickly melts into a whimper as he grinds against her, now only two thin layers separating her from what she needs. 

“Say it,” He murmurs and she very nearly loses it there. He drives her wild. When they were young, she felt the heat of it constantly burning under her collar. Even the smallest smirk from him could send her into a frenzy. That smug demeanor that once caused her to sling a slate now sparks something deep and carnal inside of her. 

“I need you inside of me,” She’s not embarrassed at her words. “I want you to fill me as much as you can, I want you to make me see stars. I want to make  _ you _ see stars.”

He regards her for just a moment, staring down at her with an unreadable expression. And then he’s tearing at her bloomers, dragging them down her thighs and then finally ridding himself of the rest of his clothes. 

When he’s back between her legs, he pushes inside of her in one smooth stroke. 

The feeling is sublime and for a brief second, she’s floating among the clouds. Gilbert inside of her never ceases to set every nerve she has on fire. Something about the feeling of them joined in the most intimate of ways completes her. She never feels more whole than with him, two pieces of a puzzle finally slotting in place. 

“Anne,” He groans, pulling out after a moment and then slowly pushing back in. “My Anne of dreams, my Anne of life.”

She moans back, unable to form any words. He makes her speechless in the best ways. 

“You’re always so tight around me,” He continues, “I miss you when I’m not here.”

She keens under his words, but there’s another meaning there. Yes, he’s trying to rile her up, trying to push her over that edge of bliss, but he also means it in the softest ways. 

“I miss you, too,” She sighs, because she does. She misses him when he’s gone and she’s forced to stay home. 

“You always have me,” He grunts, picking his pace up and pressing her further into their bed. “I’ll always come home to you.”

“Please.” 

It’s both a plea and a promise. 

“I’ll come home to you,” He repeats and then she’s slipping over the edge she hadn’t realized she was so close to. Maybe she’s been teetering there for a while, waiting for that final push to send her. 

She falls apart with his name on her lips and his hair in her hands. He’s not far behind, chasing his own pleasure and then spilling inside of her with a throaty grunt. She watches as his eyebrows pinch in pleasure and his mouth falls open. If she could, she’d commission to have that expression painted and then hang it in their room. It’s reverent in its beauty, something she’ll worship until the end of her days. 

They lay together for a while, letting the sun creep up into the sky. He whispers sweet nothings into the skin of her shoulder and she paints stories for them to indulge. By midday, they’re both clothed and he’s dawning his doctor’s coat, getting ready to treat the waiting world. 

“I’ll be home tonight,” He says, voice soft as if he’s asking for forgiveness. 

He doesn’t need to. He’s got nothing to be sorry for. 

“I love you,” She answers. 

She watches him go, staring from the window until he’s out of sight. With his medicine bag in hand, he looks like a holy spirit. She’s immensely proud, her earlier jealousy faded to nothing. 

The uneasiness and pain of her isolation is easier to bare when she has him by her side, both in love and in body. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am officially on a “Stay at Home” order as per my state government. I am also no longer walking in May for my master’s graduation. Things are really shitty and quarantine sucks. Writing is a really great outlet for these emotions. 
> 
> While I was thinking about the state of the world, it occurred to me that Gil and Anne would have lived through the 1918 outbreak. So I figured…….. why not write a quarantine fic? During that time, things shut down in really similar ways, so Anne would have been effectively quarantined. Gil probably wouldn’t have been allowed to go home if he were treating patients with the flu, but I embellished a little here to make it fit the story I wanted to create. If we’re going by the book verse, I believe all the kids would be old enough to be out of the house and they would be in their early 50s. So, yeah. That’s how this happened. This is definitely not canon compliant, so please don’t read it as if it is. 
> 
> This was kind of fun to write and I hope it's fun to read. I poured a little of my own emotions into this because writing is, as I said, an outlet. It helps. 
> 
> I hope everyone is safe and you're all finding ways to survive this madness. Routine and structure, people! It's a lifesaver. Make sure you're tending to your needs, socially, physically, and emotionally. This will end and things will go back to a new normal. I promise. But please take care of yourselves in the mean time!


End file.
